


Natural Wonders

by Jack_of_All_Blades



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female Genesis Rhapsodos, Nature, started out happy, turned into not so happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jack_of_All_Blades/pseuds/Jack_of_All_Blades
Summary: They’re nothing more than fireflies trapped in a jar for a child’s amusement.
Relationships: Genesis Rhapsodos/Sephiroth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Natural Wonders

**Author's Note:**

> Just staring at this baby won't make it any better. This is pretty rough but I'm gonna post this and go over it later when I have more sleep :P

After the mission, they had taken a detour through Banora to catch up with family. Angeal had taken off almost immediately to visit his mother with little more than a ‘meet you later!’ leaving Sephiroth to awkwardly tag after Genesis for the duration of the trip. And while he had grown up sensitive to the strained atmosphere of the Science Department when Hojo and Hollander had been fighting over the head position, even he was stunned at the sheer amount of tension in the Rhapsodos home. He had known Genesis’s relationship with her parents was . . . contentious, to say the least.

But not like this.

Dinner had been odd, with her parents talking around her but never directly to her, and Genesis for her part had ignored them as she picked at the meal she obviously had no appetite for. When she had abruptly excused herself from the dinner table, her mother’s response had only been a pinched look of disapproval while her father had blithely continued to eat. Sephiroth had been left in a vacuum, unsure whether to remain with his hosts or to follow Genesis. Ever the third wheel, it seemed.

In the end, the choice had been simple.

Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he walked across the driveway. The sun was near the horizon by now, slanting across the ground in shattered streaks of amber. The air was warm and alive with the hum of cicadas in the trees, and the warmth was welcome after the chill reception at the manor. Outside, there was no awkward talk of the war, of the President's new expansions. Outside, there was nothing to remind him of the mission, of what waited for them when they returned.

To anyone with unenhanced vision, the orchards were elongated shadows of themselves as dusk drew nearer. But he could see the graceful sweep of the branches, last patches of dusty gold sunset peeking through black leaves like the design on a Wutain vase. And at the base of one tree, Genesis, crouched over something at her feet. Her shoulders stiffened at his approach but she didn’t move to look up. “Don’t look at me like that,” Genesis snapped.

“Why do you even think I’m looking at you?” he rumbled.

“You’re looking _for_ me, therefore now that you have found me you are looking _at_ me.” She shifted, tossing an apple core into the bushes with one hand and lifting a glass jar in the other. “Simple.” She finally looked at him, her blue eyes glowing sharply in the dusk. “So don’t look at me like that. I don’t want anyone’s pity, or their censure.” She made an impatient gesture before flopping down into the grass, her jar beside her. "Come on."

He didn’t know what to do with this version of her, unsure of which mask she wore at the moment. A furrow appeared between his brows as he dutifully approached but did not sit. “I came to make sure you were all right, and to bring you back.”

Her sharp gaze slashed across him. “Did _they_ send you?”

“I came of my own will,” he stated flatly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Her clear distrust of her parents was growing more and more disturbing. “And now that I have found you, we will return.” He turned to do just that when a hand rose to touch his sleeve.

She had stood at some point. “Just wait,” Genesis murmured behind him.

Sephiroth paused, intensely aware of her grip on his arm. “Wait for what?” His attention flicked around the orchard, unsure what held Genesis’s interest so readily. They were returning to Midgar in the morning and he’d been on the receiving ends of Genesis’s product-of-a-late-night morning rants more times than he could count. He had no desire to repeat the experience. He didn't _want_ to wait, if it meant Genesis would be up all night.

Her crimson lips curled into a sly smirk. “Any moment now. I thought I saw one a minute ago.”

“ _Genesis_ ,” he said warningly. “I have no time for such foolish—”

“There!”

He whipped around, following her pointed finger, just in time to see a pinpoint of light, hardly larger than an ember, die back into the growing dark. “What was—”

Almost as soon as he spoke, little flickers of light began appearing, like lightbulbs popping into existence for brief seconds at a time. Soon the whole orchard was covered in the little flickering lights and Sephiroth looked down at his copper-haired companion in stunned silence.

Something brushed his cheek with hard wings. Memories of Wutai made him flail slightly. He could remember finding insects and spiders the size of his fist in his cot. There had been a reason they had shaken their boots out every morning before them put them on, considering most everything in Wutai was poisonous. He moved to crush it.

“Don’t!” Genesis smacked his hand down. “You’ll kill it.”

“What?” Sephiroth stared at her, bewildered, even as another of the little things flew past.

Genesis made a blurring snatch, fingers cupped around each other. “Ha!” she crowed. Her sharp eyes flicked to him, suddenly assessing and he felt himself tensing. Usually whatever Genesis was plotting was never good for whoever was caught in the crosshairs. “Hold out your hand.”

He balked. “I beg your—”

She grabbed his arm with one hand, the other still cupped protectively around whatever she held. “Hold still, otherwise it’ll fly away,” she hissed. That was the _point_. Sephiroth was starting to wish for the simple sterility of the labs. Genesis’s hand cupped over his, as if imparting a great secret. “Hold still,” she breathed. Then her hand lifted gently, taking with it the warmth of her skin.

On his palm, the sensation little more than the lightest pressure even to his senses, was one of those glowing lights. A small insect, black wings folded neatly and the tip of its abdomen pulsing with a warm golden light. He fought the urge to shake it off, remembering Genesis was watching him with her sharp eyes.

He regarded the insect with curiosity and growing wonder, the delicate prickle of its legs against his fingertips. His mind pared down the chemical makeup of the bioluminescence, but he remained riveted to the softly glowing thing that clung to his fingers. It wasn’t the harsh glow of mako, or even the softer radiance of the Lifestream, both of a colder tone. This looked like warmth, like _life_.

He hadn’t realized Genesis had stepped away until he heard a faint scraping sound. She had picked up the jar she’d been carrying earlier and was unscrewing the lid. “Old canning jar,” she said as if that explained everything. It explained nothing.

He watched as his second in command, the Crimson Commander, ran around the orchard catching insects with childish glee and releasing them into the scratched glass jar. “What is the purpose of all this?” he asked, brow furrowed. He could see no gain in gathering these small glowing insects and containing them. More than likely they would die due to lack of oxygen or food, whichever came first.

Genesis glanced over her shoulder with a wide grin. “Purpose?” Her laugh was high and delighted, scattering into the dusk-warmed air. She scooped up another one and fed it gently into the jar, where it joined its trapped brethren. Sephiroth’s own firefly had lost interest in his fingers and flitted off, but his attention had been arrested by Genesis. Like always. She shook her head, blue eyes still glittering with mirth. “There is no purpose. It’s fun.”

“Fun.” The word was strange in his mouth. But he had used it once or twice before, in reference to their spars. He couldn’t understand how that feeling of adrenaline as sword clashed and near-feral grins were exchanged could be applied to Genesis’s seemingly inane activities.

“I guess I just wanted to relive it, feel like a little girl again. Running around barefoot and catching fireflies in a jar.” She giggled a little and Sephiroth felt his chest constrict slightly at the surprisingly girlish sound. The tension from dinner seemed to have completely dissipated. But then, Genesis’s moods had always been as changeable as water. “I used to do this all the time as a kid,” she confessed as she capped the jar, a handful of the small glowing insects shifting around inside in a lazy dance.

“Angeal never mentioned this.” And he would have, Sephiroth was sure. When they first met, Angeal had taken it upon himself to educate his silver-haired friend about the natural world before being shipped off to Wutai, if only so that Sephiroth would not have a rude awakening upon arrival.

Genesis blinked up at him. “Why would he?”

“I had always been of the assumption that you and he did everything together as children. That you were very . . . close.” He hated that his words had the slightest lift to them, indications of questioning, of insecurity. But it was too late to take them back.

“Close?” Genesis dropped her eyes back down to the jar glowing softly in her hands. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking and it frustrated him. “I suppose . . . There weren’t any other children my age.”

She looked up, meeting his inquisitive gaze directly. The soft glow eased the sharp angles from her face, lending her blue eyes a warmth he hadn’t seen in a while. Genesis was a master of masks, at turns tempestuous and playful. Beneath that, though . . . Her eyes searched his, crimson lips pressed tight. In the end she had been just as lonely as he had been. This strange openness made him feel like he’d been caught flatfooted, waiting for some trap to open beneath him. But this wasn’t war, and whatever Genesis seemed to be searching for in his face wasn’t there. Her head jerked away, breaking whatever spell had fallen on the orchard.

“ _My friend, the fates are cruel_ ,” she laughed mockingly, the softness gone in an instant. Her knuckles grew white where she gripped the glass. “But you would know that more than anyone, wouldn’t you?” Sephiroth blinked. He never understood her need to lash out, to wound, when she was the one in pain. And she fully intended for it to hurt.

“You didn’t have anyone until us, didn’t you?” Genesis had stepped forward until they stood chest to chest, the jar of trapped fireflies between them. There was defiance in her eyes, silently daring him to say something that would shatter the growing tension and leave one of them bleeding. It was not an unfamiliar feeling. But Sephiroth felt no need to contest that statement, as it was true. Hojo had been an indifferent caretaker, and Gast . . .

No, there had been no one before Angeal and Genesis. He didn’t _need_ anyone besides Angeal and Genesis.

She gave a sharp nod at his silence. “Be grateful you don’t have family, then,” she said, that same mocking tone in her voice. By now Sephiroth could tell it was directed at herself. Another failure on her part.

“Genesis, your parents . . .” he began, but she was already shaking her head.

“If you think I’m just going to go back and apologize to their faces, then you are _wrong_ ,” she snapped. She made to spin away but jerked back around to face him, fury sparking in her eyes. “I’m tired of living up to everyone’s expectations, of trying to be ‘good enough.’ I don’t want to be good enough. I need to be the best.” There was a frantic look in those mako-lit eyes, all the more intense with the twilight deepening around them. “ _Why_ can I never be good enough? To them? To you? What am I _missing_?!”

Sephiroth’s hands curled gently around the jar she still held, effectively silencing her at the unexpected motion. He felt like he could feel the warmth of those little flickers of light even through the glass. Genesis watched him warily, her shoulders still tense as if in preparation for some cutting remark about her uncharacteristic burst of uncertainty, of weakness.

“Genesis,” he said again. “I didn’t come out here to lecture you. I am not Angeal. I am not your parents.” Her flinch was all the more visible because the Crimson Commander never shied away from anything. Whatever was between her and her parents, Sephiroth knew it had nothing to do with him. If Genesis was set on the path she had taken, all he could do was watch. He knew better than to stop her. “I . . . do not like to see you hurt by something I don’t understand.”

“And how would you?” she asked suddenly. “You’ve never been second best. You have the world at your feet, the _Silver General_ , Demon of Wutai. If you had a choice, would you rather have ShinRa and all that you have now, or your friends?”

Sephiroth’s brow furrowed at the abrupt change. He could read the tension in her posture as if she was waiting for . . . something. He knew it was a hypothetical, but he still couldn’t quite understand what she was asking. She and Angeal were a part of ShinRa. There was not one without the other.

“. . . Why would I need to choose?”

Genesis’ eyes narrowed fractionally, something painful flashing through them before it was gone. She opened her mouth to reply, but all she eventually said was, “There’re fireflies in your hair.” Sephiroth blinked and realized they’d been nearly nose to nose, so close he could the light move and scatter in her eyes, the liquid swirl of mako.

He jerked his gaze away, looking down to see a scatter of light clinging to his silver hair. Genesis raised a hand to brush the fireflies away. His eyes fluttered shut at the feel of her fingers in his hair, lingering and almost caressing. Whatever her initial reaction to his answer, she seemed to not be truly bothered by it. And that disturbed him as much as her reaction to her parents.

Genesis never turned down a challenge, so why was she backing off now?

She reluctantly pulled her hand away, settling it back against her firefly jar. “You say there’s no choice,” she said carefully, as if searching for words, as if afraid of choosing the wrong ones.

Her lashes lowered and he felt a strange sense of loss as those blue eyes dropped to the jar in her hands. “I feel like this, sometimes.” The glowing glass was twisted between her hands, the fireflies inside flickering to a rhythm of their own. Like they were tapping out code, Sephiroth thought in a moment of whimsy. _Help me. Save me._

 _Love me_.

She was perfect, or as close as monsters like them could get. “Why?” Her voice was dull now. Defeated in a way Sephiroth had never heard. She was always fire and electricity, too full of emotion and intensity to ever sit quietly in the corner. “Why am I not enough?”

Such a simple question, and Sephiroth had no answer. Genesis could hide behind her masks all she liked, but there at least he knew his footing. This softer, vulnerable side of her . . . he was running blind.

He stepped closer, head bending to meet her gaze. “Perhaps because the world isn’t ready for you. Or perhaps because there’s no one who can come close to deserving you.”

He could feel her choked laugh vibrating against his chest. Her head cocked, auburn hair sliding softly with the motion. “That must be the reason, then,” she said, crimson lips quirking in a smile, hints of something sad still lingering at the corners.

Their eyes glowed faintly in the gloaming, softening the shadows around them. “Is it?” he murmured.

When her lips curved against his, all he tasted was apples and _not good enough_. It was a gentle thing, as fragile as the glass Genesis still held. But it wasn't enough, as he could feel the the fire returning to her bones in the bruising intensity of her kiss. He opened to her willingly and she surged up against him, jar forgotten as it fell into the thick, forgiving grass. There was still the bitter taste of failure, on his part and on hers, but he held her close. There were so few ways he could show her her worth. Maybe they both were running blind, unaware what lay at the end. But for now, they would grasp at what little hope they had.

Fireflies flickered around them, all the brighter for the darkness.

.

**Author's Note:**

> This was . . . um, whoopsie. This one got unexpectedly heavy. It was just supposed to be a cute, fluffy little thing about catching fireflies, didn’t mean for it to get into Gen’s daddy- and mommy-issues. I swear, these things mutate during the wee hours when you're working on roughly no sleep.
> 
> Tell me what you think! I love to hear from you guys, and considering there's so few fem!Genesis fics out there, I'd like to hear how I'm doing characterization-wise.
> 
> Cheers!


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